


gorgeous

by victorlimadelta



Series: Trans Sheith Week 2021 [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Consent, Gay Sex, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Sheith Week 2021, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 19:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30094188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorlimadelta/pseuds/victorlimadelta
Summary: “Hi,” Shiro says.Keith’s biting his thumb, hard, to keep from groaning just at the sight. “Oh, you really are gorgeous,” he mumbles, gone stupid just from how goddamnprettyhis man looks. Once he’s brave enough to take his hand down, he points down to the floor, then twirls his finger. “Turn around for me.”“Do you like it?” Shiro has the audacity to ask.—For Trans Sheith Week 2021 Day 3 prompts of boxer briefs / lingerie. Another twofer!
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Trans Sheith Week 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210808
Kudos: 29





	gorgeous

**Author's Note:**

> AFAB language, mostly, for Keith. Mentions of drinking-and-then-sex, but consent is explicit to avoid any dubcon (even slight).

**K: Date night?**

This meeting has been interminably long for Keith. There’s nothing interesting going on here that can keep his attention. The presenter is a Taujeerian who’s trying his (her? its?) best to make the issue of medicalized acid from their native planet’s rejuvenation process slightly more engrossing, but at the end of the day, it’s a lot of chemistry diagrams that no one here seems to care about. Not even Shiro, sitting across the table from him. He might look like he’s wrapped up in it, but Keith can tell there’s a glaze over his eyes and that the monotone words are going in one ear, out the other.

Whatever daydream he’s got playing in his head, he startles out of it when his handheld PADD vibrates with Keith’s comm. He probably thinks it’s some emergency email—joke’s on him. Atlas loves Keith, loves how well he takes care of Shiro, and she lets him get away with a lot as consequence. Like pushing through his notifs like they’re DEFCON-1.

Shiro pulls out the orange glass, tilts it so he can see the message without using biometrics to unlock it, and Keith falls in love with him a little bit all over again. Even after all this time, a mere two words can make his beloved blush, the apples of his cheeks gone pink as he tries not to smile. Keith watches as Shiro brings his PADD under the table with his left hand, swipes up with his thumb, and starts typing a return message, all without taking his eyes off of the delegate.

**S: Date night.**

At least he has something nice to think about for the last fifteen minutes of this waste of time.

* * *

Date night means sake and soba, splitting a too-large meal and Shiro having a few shots before Keith tells him to save room for dessert. He knows Shiro’s about to open his mouth with the classic excuse, _I don’t even eat carbs, Keith, you know that_ , before Keith reminds him he’ll have something to eat at home.

That shuts his mouth right quick.

Shiro’s just flushed enough with alcohol that he’s slow, calm, and suggestible. “Okay, gorgeous,” Keith says once the door to their place is solidly closed behind them. “Here’s the plan: you’re going to go slip into something more comfortable and meet me in our bedroom in five. Can you do that for me?”

“Anything for you,” Shiro says earnestly, the big puppy that he is, and Keith rewards him with a raspberry of a smooch to his chin.

It’s the waiting that’s the hardest part. Always has been, for Keith. There’s certainty in knowing that a loved one is coming back to him, despite all odds, despite _death_ trying to keep them apart, but his body craves Shiro’s, always, in every way. Comfort, connection, purpose, pleasure.

When Keith undresses from his sharp Garrison uniform, he’s sure to fold it to regulation, place his jacket neatly on top of his pressed trousers in the side chair with his horribly pinching dress shoes underneath. It’ll distract Shiro if anything’s in disarray. His socks, of course, are a loss, balled and thrown towards the bathroom door to be snuck in with the laundry later. It’s such a relief to get out of his binder, too, stuck in it for too long today and gasping in a long breath as soon as he wriggles out.

Which leaves him in his black boxer-briefs when he hears a soft rap at the bedroom door. “Are you decent?” Shiro asks from the other side.

“I hope not,” Keith says, loud enough that Shiro sniggers at his comment. “Come on in, gorgeous.”

Shiro promptly makes him eat his words—and choke on his own tongue, catching the mattress hard as his knees go weak and he needs somewhere to sit immediately. ‘Something comfortable,’ tonight, is a harness in white that can only fairly be called lingerie, long silky straps wrapping around his body but not too tight across his scars. Like this, his musculature is cut into manageable chunks for Keith’s eyes to roam. There are straps over his shoulders, a triangle outline for his beefy pecs, an elegant diamond space down the center of his abs pulled to the side by gleaming silver fastens, long lines down his hips to straps that wrap around his massive thighs like garters. The pièce de résistance, though, is the soft leather collar just under Shiro’s adam’s apple, white with a D-ring in the front. “Hi,” Shiro says.

Keith’s biting his thumb, hard, to keep from groaning just at the sight. “Oh, you really are gorgeous,” he mumbles, gone stupid just from how goddamn _pretty_ his man looks. Once he’s brave enough to take his hand down, he points down to the floor, then twirls his finger. “Turn around for me.”

“Do you like it?” Shiro has the audacity to ask. Those bits around his thighs are at the perfect angle to hold his ass up and pert. The sinful cords of his back muscles are only enhanced by the pull of the straps around the fastens, the same diamond in the back as in the front except one stacked on top of another instead of the makeshift clothless brassiere for the upper half.

“Do I like it,” Keith mutters to himself. It feels like his heartbeat is in his crotch. “I’m underdressed.”

Shiro’s smile is broad and warm and too honest by half. “You look good, baby.” His cock swings heavy between his legs when he walks in, and then his Altean hand is under Keith’s chin, tipping his eyes up away from the lewd display to the fire smoldering in his gray eyes. “Black is your color.”

“Mm,” Keith hums thoughtlessly when Shiro brushes their lips together. “And what’s yours?” he whispers against Shiro’s mouth, hooking his finger through the silver at his collar to keep him close.

“Green.” No hesitation.

Keith’s smile is wicked and fanged. “On your knees, gorgeous.”

Shiro makes it look graceful, somehow, instead of ungainly. And just like Keith knew he would, he takes advantage of the words unsaid in Keith’s command, putting his palms gentle on Keith’s knees and persuading them to spread. His eyes dart to the dark spot between his legs, already damp with slick. It’s not like Keith can help it! Not when Shiro walks in looking all ethereal like that. “What do you want?”

“That’s a loaded question.” Keith wouldn’t mind an everlasting intergalactic peace. A few nights of dreamless, restful sleep would be nice. Shiro uses his thumbs to massage little circles into Keith’s legs—and that’s certainly an idea, having Shiro’s hands all over him, chasing the knots out of his muscles and smoothing over his skin. But for right now? “Suck me off.”

A pink tongue lolls out of Shiro’s mouth to lick along the inside of his thigh, tracing up millimeter by millimeter and making Keith so, so wet. “Like this?”

“A little faster, if you don’t mind,” but it comes out breathy, teasing. When Shiro goes to snap at the waistband of his boxer briefs, though, Keith threads their fingers together. “Come on,” he encourages his partner, “you know what to do.”

“I—but you—” and bless him, Shiro looks confused for a few ticks, worry crease between his eyebrows as he looks back and forth between the hands Keith’s placing back on his knees and the ultimate goal between his legs. “You want me to—?”

“You’re a smart man, you’ll figure it out,” Keith says, reaching for the back of his head and pulling him in.

Gently. No yanking, it’s bad for Shiro’s back, already scarred to hell and overcompensating for the weight of his prosthetic arm. But Shiro bends, submissive under Keith’s draw, and leans in until the scar on his face is nearly wrinkled shut, nose smashed into the thin cotton of his underwear. “God,” he chokes out, before he inhales, greedy.

He’s so gross. It makes Keith smile, that Shiro feels so free to be so _nasty_ with him. “Less cursing,” Keith says, “put your mouth to good use.”

That same wet, hot tongue is now snaking flat against the Y of his briefs, soaking through the fabric until Keith can feel it against hot, sensitive skin. A shiver runs up his spine, and he throws his leg over Shiro’s right shoulder, keeping him close with his heel dug into the blade of his shoulder. This, not coincidentally, leaves his thighs more open than ever, and Shiro’s mouth—oh.

Oh, fuck. That beautiful mouth, those full, plump lips, are pursing around the damp patch that’s soaked through—and sucking it. Sucking the entire slick-stain down, like it’s a gift, something he should feel grateful to receive. “Just like that,” he growls, “little higher—”

That same attention moves up, from the nadir of his still-clothed cunt to the apex, drenching him with drool before Shiro’s got the fabric wet enough to cling to Keith’s hard-on. “Please,” he pants against the massive wet patch, “I want, let me see you, let me—”

“You get me off like this or _you_ don’t get off at all,” Keith orders him, “how’s that sound?”

“ _So_ green,” Shiro says, and dives back in.

The soft muscles of his mouth are so much more vague like this, but that just means Shiro works harder, tongue thrusting stronger, mouth sloppy with effort and shining with spittle. The way he latches onto the swollen berry of his clit would be way too harsh without the fabric in the way, but with the cotton damp-on-damp, it’s not only bearable, it’s _wonderful_. “Go on, gorgeous,” Keith croons at him, voice stuck in a constant moan at Shiro’s ministrations, “touch yourself.”

The noise muffled into Keith’s pussy is a nearly-frightened groan. Still, he does what he’s told, slow, so slow, tension in his upper back under Keith’s foot as he runs his instep up and down Shiro’s spine. It’s so easy, from his perch on the bed, for Keith to reach down and pluck at the other shoulder’s lingerie strap; it snaps, loudly, back to Shiro’s skin, leaving a little red welt and making Shiro whine through his teeth into Keith’s crotch.

“Harder,” Keith insists. Shiro’s so rough like this, nearly biting his folds through his boxers just to make sure he feels something underneath, but that ferocity is what’s getting Keith off. “Faster,” he’s so close, he’s unbelievably close, reaching for a chest strap and pulling it taut before releasing it into the meat of Shiro’s pec to spur him on. “Just a little more, come on, oh, fuck,” and Keith fists a hand into Shiro’s fluffy forelock, holds him in place so he can outright grind into his mouth—

It’s the shocked noise Shiro makes that pushes him over the edge, the wide, black-blown set of his eyes when Keith takes charge and stops treating him like he’s delicate. Keith’s back falls to the mattress and he cries out his orgasm to the ceiling, toes curling in and legs spasming to keep Shiro close. Shiro’s grunt against the blood-thrum of his clenching cunt makes one last spark fizzle along his nerves, and then Shiro’s panting against his thigh as he climaxes, shooting over his own hand.

Keith’s never been stickier in his life. By all rights, it ought to be disgusting. But Shiro just looks so... happy. So pleased with himself. “How long have you been saving this?” Keith asks him, gentle fingertip along one of the elastic-snap welts.

“A while,” Shiro admits. “I thought for sure you’d find it before I was brave enough to wear it in front of you.”

“Oh, Shiro.” Keith props himself back up, cups fingers behind Shiro’s head, and hauls the two of them closer together, just so he can drop a kiss on Shiro’s mouth. Shiro’s lips are sticky with his own fluids; Keith lingers here, chases the taste out of the inside of his mouth before he licks Shiro clean on the outside, too. “It looks so good on you.”

“It’s not too—?”

“It’s perfect.” Keith fiddles with it a little, adjusting the fit across Shiro’s chest and maybe also sort of fondling his muscles while he’s here. “And I, uh. Wasn’t really counting on discovering that I had a kink for, um. That.” His boxer briefs are all gross now, tacky and boggy instead of slick and hot, but when Keith peels the fabric away, he’s all sensitive to the open air.

Shiro seems to get it, at least; he takes the offending, squishy garments out of Keith’s hand before he can get too squeamish about it. “I could probably get you into almost anything,” he brags.

“Key word _almost_ ,” Keith barbs right back, “keep your weirder stuff ten thousand feet away from me.”

“Ten thousand feet, you say?” Shiro waggles his eyebrows like they could fly off his forehead like this.

Keith can’t help it when he bursts into laughter. He means to flick Shiro with a strap again, but Shiro just ends up climbing into bed on top of him instead, gathering Keith in his arms and bundling both of them towards the headboard. Keith now has a lightly toasted gay in lingerie snuggling between his tiny tits, taking deep, contented breaths, and as he pets Shiro’s hair, his last thought before he turns the lights out is that this is the most gorgeous man in the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe eventually I’ll fill a prompt for this week and not make it lewd? 🤷
> 
> Find me on twitter [@victorlimadelta](https://twitter.com/victorlimadelta)!


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